WIZDOM AND PANDORA

Wizdom stared in awe, unconsciously holding his breath, as he looked up the endless staircase of gleaming black marble before him. The air around him was damp and musty and tickled his nostrils. Cobwebs hung overhead, dangling high above him from the towering ceiling. Perched at the top of the stairs was a large, golden dragon throne. Sitting on white marble, it was surrounded by statues of goblins, gargoyles and other strange creatures. They all stared back disconcertingly at Wizdom, some with tongues out, others with piercing eyes, bared teeth or pointed ears. The dragon’s head held its mouth agape, as if ready to devour him, revealing a long golden tongue jutting out and sharp pointed teeth. The arms of the throne were created by the front legs of the dragon and the claws made up the feet of the chair. A huge tail jutted out from the back of the chair and coiled around to the front like a sitting cat. Three spikes on the tail’s end glistened in piercing diamond shards. Giant wings stood out from the dragon’s back, poised for flight, black and shimmering like dark sapphires. Its eyes were large rubies, and its body was sprinkled in faceted jewels. Two spiraling horns jutted out from its head, over a foot of solid gold, with diamonds on the tips. Held within the horns shone an enormous crimson red stone, casting an eerie glow and dancing shadows over the stone statues surrounding it. What was this place? Where was he? He dared to move forward, ever so slowly, toward this great altar. His pulse racing, palms sweating, he paused momentarily, staring up at the dragon’s red gleaming eyes. As he approached the stairs, the dragon’s fiery eyes stared down at him unnervingly, as if it was alive, watching him. Wizdom wondered about how he had gotten there. How did he get here? He glanced around the great hall surrounding him. Flickering candles, sconces and torches aligned the walls of marbled stone. The ceiling was several stories high and great pillars supported the wooden arches above him. Shadows and darkness surrounded him, except for the faint glow of the iron torches, and the scarlet glow of the jewel radiating from the dragon’s crown jewel. He could feel some sort of power emanating from it as he stood there. It made him feel happy and safe, despite his surroundings. Suddenly, he saw movement out of the corner of his left eye. He looked quickly, but saw nothing. Turning to scurrying sounds to his right, he still saw nothing but black. Was he imagining things? Because of the obscuring darkness, he could not see very far, only as far as the torches lining the walls. He was only eleven but he was an adventurer and never scared and despite his current situation, he normally loved mysteries and secret places. Unconsciously, his pulse kept racing as the silence crept eerily around him. Looking around nearby in the dimly lit room, he noted there were too many gothic stone tables and chairs along the walls on either side, creating a cluttered labyrinth of furniture. The floor contained ancient carvings, symbols, and words, most of which he could not read. But strangely, some symbols he did recognize. What was going on here? He turned his attention back to the intimidating stairway looming before him, the eerie dragon still staring down at him. There were at least a hundred stairs and he started to climb them, one by one, step by step, moving ever closer to the dragon. With each step he grew more nervous, more undecided as he ascended the flight before him. Wizdom did not look back as he climbed, for he didn’t like heights. Finally, after several scary and daunting minutes, and one nearly deadly tumble from a slip, he arrived at the top in front of the great beast, its head rising high over Wizdom’s, so that he had to lean back to see the huge creature. Its eyes seemed to pierce right through him as they sized one another up. The enormous jewel was about half a big as Wizdom himself and cast a slight, pulsating glow. Wizdom just stared in awe at the magnificent creature, its ruby eyes glaring back at him. They stood there, eyeing each other, for a moment. The room was still, only the two of them staring intently at one another. Suddenly curious, Wizdom started to reach out to touch it, to run his hand along the golden scales, when suddenly from behind the throne there was a grinding sound, the dragon began to move and smoke crept out from behind it. He backed up instinctively, almost falling down the stairs. Was the dragon alive? Staring for a moment, he wondered what was going on. What was happening? A quick glance behind him down the stairs revealed hundreds of glowing yellow eyes now staring back at him through the darkness. Panic and fear seized him. His heart racing, he turned toward the throne just as a dark, cloaked figure appeared, floating out of the mists. Wizdom thought quickly, fight or flight? Flight won over and he took a step back and started to fall . . . Wizdom jerked up in his bed, out of a sound sleep. Was he dreaming? He looked around his room, not quite sure where he was. His heart was pounding and he was gasping for breath. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes as he scanned his room for familiar surroundings. He looked at the shelves on his dark blue walls lined with all sorts of toys, soldiers and men. There was a clear crystal ball on a branch like wooden stand, and various colored crystals on another shelf. Lots of books were piled up disheveled in his bookcase. He loved to read, particularly about adventures and history, science and space. A desk on one side of his bed near the door was covered in papers and old maps, and scattered with various implements and tools. His pocket knife, magnifying glass, flashlight, and multiple other supplies he used on a regular basis, both for school and after school adventures, were scattered about. There was a small aquarium with several frogs in it, croaking happily on a piece of wood above the water flowing in the bottom of the tank, warming themselves under the light that supplied them with heat. There were various plants in the tank as well, some green and fuzzy, and some like lily pads. There was even a turtle named Fredd. Wizdom loved all sorts of creatures, especially slimy ones. His room was rather messy with clothes strewn everywhere, and towels hanging haphazardly on the back of his door, but it looked no different than the room of any other English boy his age. As the sun crept slowly through the window, relieving the darkness that surrounded him, he sat on his bed for a few moments going over what had just happened in his dream. He thought of the huge spine-chilling dragon staring back at him and the large glowing stone atop its head. Then he thought about all the eyes staring at him and the figure that suddenly appeared before he woke up. Normally, he didn’t remember his dreams. But there were a select few in which he was fighting dragons, dressed in armor, wielding a sword and even flying, which he did remember. The flying dreams were his favorite. He was also a great warrior in many of his dreams. But for some reason, he felt a connection to this dream. He felt like he was really there, instead of just watching himself. But who was the figure? Was it going to harm him? He didn’t get to see the face before he woke up. All he saw was an immense black cloak coming out of the mist behind the throne, and eyes, so many yellow, glowing eyes staring at him from the bottom of the stairs as he glanced back, just before he fell . . . What was down there? Wizdom would have to think about this later. After all, it was time to get up, get dressed and head to school. He couldn’t wait to tell his best friend, Chris, about this dream. Chris was always interested in Wizdom’s dreams. They were best friends and shared everything. Wait until Chris heard about the dragon!